


A Song Written For You

by Moonrose91



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, Gen, M/M, Smaug is a cat, hobbit reverse big bang 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:14:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is a harper trying to become a harpist.</p><p>Bilbo is a composer who has hit a major creative block.</p><p>Gandalf is still a meddling old man who throws them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Our Story Begins...

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [kurosmind](http://kurosmind.tumblr.com/), who is the awesome artist for this.
> 
> The [tag](http://kurosmind.tumblr.com/tagged/MusicianAU) for the pictures.

Thorin inhaled as he stepped out onto the stage, dressed in a fine navy blue suit, and stared out at the empty seats.

His eyes trailed to the ceiling where some religious scene was playing out before he went back to staring out at the empty seats. With a sigh of relief, he walked to center stage, his dress shoes barely making a whisper of sound as he did so, and ran his fingers along the crown of his pedal harp before he walked to the bench. He rolled his shoulders as he settled on the bench and made sure all of his hair was pulled into a low ponytail at the base of his skull.

With a roll of his head and a stretch that had his spine popping, he pulled his concert harp against his right shoulder. After he made sure all the pedals were disengaged, something that when he had first started playing a pedal harp he forgot to do, he began to tune it.

He stared out across the empty chairs as he tuned the harp by ear, keeping his breath steady, even though he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the empty theater to look at the music.

Not that he needed to, not for the first song Bilbo had ever written for him. The song written for _him_ , Thorin, four years ago that would forever be the song that had Thorin entering the music world, forever be a part of Thorin and Bilbo and…

Never for that song.

The harp was tuned and Thorin began to play a children’s melody as he let his mind drift to that time four years ago when he had thought his dream impossible, even as he chased it.


	2. Four Years (Give or Take a Few Months) Ago

The message machine was blinking when Thorin walked into the house he shared with his younger sister, her husband, and their two sons (one teenager, one pre-teen, for all they acted like twins, much like Frerin and Thorin, once upon a time).

After a moment’s hesitation, he tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and walked over to message machine, making sure the pen was working before he pushed play.

**_“You have three new messages.”_ **

**_“Message one.”_ **

_“Hey Dis, it’s Esmerelda. Fili and Kili are over at my house with my son and nephew. I’m just calling because the boys were hedging about if they told you or not and you weren’t answering your cell phone. All right, see you Saturday for poker night, I’ll bring the beer and Eglantine will bring the food. Bye.”_

Thorin dutifully wrote the message as it played, waiting for the next.

_“Mr. Oakenshield, it is with many regrets that I am calling to inform you that you did not make it into our-…”_

Thorin deleted the message viciously and waited for the third message, ignoring the low-burning rage that was kindled in his heart at the oh so familiar words.

_“Hey Thorin, it is Vili. Can you tell Dis I am running late? Thanks.”_

Thorin snarled a bit at the last message, but he wrote it down on the pad for messages and ripped both off, carefully, and stuck them under Dis’s name on the cork board. With a sharp exhale, he then continued to the back and into the music room.

He was quick and almost brutal as he yanked his hair into a low ponytail, kicking the door shut behind him. He threw himself onto his bench settled at his concert harp and immediately gentled as he began to tune it, though now his rage poured from his mind and out his mouth. He continued to mutter as he carefully began to plucky mindlessly at the strings before he began to play Bach’s Sonata for Harp in G Major.

*~*~*

Thorin doesn’t even twitch as Dis enters the music room, just continues to play Bach’s Sonata for Harp in G Major for…the whatever amount of time.

He’s not been able to get past it, stuck in the endless repeating, endless cycle, of the same sonata and…

He started when Dis carefully laid her hands over his, effectively stopping him from playing. “Even if you played till your fingers bled, again, it won’t change the fact you didn’t get the position in the orchestra that you wanted,” she stated and Thorin sighed, resting his temple against the knee of the harp.

“I just…” he whispered, trying to explain _it_ to Dis.

That he hadn’t picked being a harpist for the challenge, but because he loved to play the harp. That he wanted to be _known_ as a harpist because the harp made some broken part of him sing and he felt her hands tighten briefly over his.

“I know,” she soothed and he sighed, disengaging the pedals.

“Dinner?” he inquired and she nodded, bright blonde curls bouncing against her forehead.

“Dinner. Just us tonight as well,” she added with a grin and Thorin nodded.

Dis nodded in return and she carefully removed her hands from Thorin’s before she stepped back and left the music room, door staying open behind her.

Thorin sighed as he stared around the room, his corner filled with his concert harp, his Celtic harp, and his Welsh triple harp, along with every piece of music ever written for the harp or transposed for the harp. He had even learned the music box song from that trilogy (or was it quartet?) of pirate movies from the second and third on the harp to try and get a place in the Modern Music Orchestra.

He hadn’t made it.

He resisted the urge to smack his head against the head of the concert harp and instead focused on insuring that all of his harps were all right before he walked out of the music room and headed for the dining room.


	3. Meddling Old Man

Thorin let out a frustrated sound as the doorbell rang, cutting his rehearsal of his mother’s goodbye piece to the concert world “Goodbye World”. With finger suggestions on the page, in the original copy, it had been written purely for his mother by a composer who had never achieved anything.

Thorin knew, he had tried to find him, especially after his mother’s death when he had received “Hello Tomorrow” in her will.

The piece she had meant to return to the concert world with.

The piece specifically written to be paired with “Goodbye World”, like a movement, only two separate songs, but she had never gone back.

“Hello Tomorrow”, much like “Goodbye World” was nearly impossible to play, stretching a harpist’s hands to the limit at times and skipping notes at other times. But, while “Goodbye World” held more harmonizing of notes, and producing light, bell-like sounds, “Hello Tomorrow” was deeper set, speaking of a longing to return, before slipping into a lightness that Thorin still couldn’t get _just_ right.

And now someone was _leaning_ on the doorbell.

Thorin was going to commit murder.

He carefully stood up, putting away his mother’s music before he walked out of the room, heading for the front door and wondering how quick he’d have to be to murder someone and not get caught. Without even glancing through the peephole he yanked the door open with a low snarl only to let out a heavy sigh and cover his face with his hand. “Gandalf,” he greeted lowly and the gray haired, clean shaven, man in the charcoal gray suit smiled brightly.

“Thorin, lovely to see you again. I am sorry about the orchestra fall through, but I think I have _just_ the idea for you! Mind if I come in?” Gandalf questioned and Thorin glared.

Gandalf Greyhame was one of the agents at the Istari Music Company. Artists, writers, managers; if you needed it, and they liked you, you were made, supposedly.

Thorin had only made it as a harper, playing old Celtic songs various family members had taught him or playing as a special guest sort of thing with everyone probably wondering if he was there. Gandalf, unlike the others at Istari, was also very all over the place in his choices. He had a few composers tucked away, artists across the board, and one conductor, of all things.

“I truly think it’ll be _just_ the thing for your career. A bit like…the map to the treasure and the key for the chest at the end,” Gandalf continued and Thorin let out a heavy sigh before he stepped back.

“I’ll make tea,” Thorin grumbled and Gandalf chuckled.

“Excellent, excellent,” Gandalf stated as he made his way to the kitchen and Thorin shut the door behind him.

*~*~*

“Your big idea for my career is for me to play muse to your favorite composer?” Thorin asked sharply and Gandalf waved his hand a bit, chewing at the end of his unlight pipe.

“You will not be _playing muse_ to my favorite composer. I am just hoping you’ll…inspire him. He’s gotten into a bit of rut and it is threatening his career,” Gandalf answered.

“Playing muse,” Thorin reiterated and Gandalf let out a sigh, before he smiled again, pulling his pipe away from his mouth.

“Very well, if that’s how you wish to view yourself. Anyway, I think it’ll be good for both of you and, _if_ he writes something for you, well…it can be the piece de resistance in the concert of his works that’ll be around at the end of the year. If he can’t…well…that concert is going to be the beginning of the end of him, and I would so hate to see it happen to such a creative soul. Gutted before he’s really gotten his wings spread,” Gandalf mused and Thorin sighed.

“I’m not going to play muse for some…grocer turned composer! His works probably consist of an ode to his apple tree or some such nonsense,” Thorin growled as he stood up, collecting the hardy mugs they used for tea as he did so.

“Ever hear of the Suite of Lights?” Gandalf asked and Thorin stilled.

“Originally it had a harp solo in it, but it had to be cut, in the end. No one seemed to be able to play it right, though the music is available for purchase, though you already knew that. Interestingly enough, every comment surrounding that audition with that solo is about how you seem to bring the life that it otherwise lacks,” Gandalf continued, as if he hadn’t brought it up and Thorin turned his head to look at Gandalf.

“Anyway, the composer I want you to _play muse for_ just so happens to be Bilbo Baggins, but I can understand if you don’t wish to do so. I mean, it is quite demeaning, to _play muse_ ,” the dastardly old man commented and went back to chewing on the stem of his pipe, since he was strictly forbidden from smoking within Dis’s house.

“When do you want me to meet him?” Thorin asked, and the beaming smile was far too smug for Thorin’s tastes.

“Why, tomorrow afternoon of course! Sooner the better, truly. As I said before, Thorin, I do think this will be the best for both of you,” Gandalf responded merrily as he stood up.

“Now, I need to make a few other calls, but tomorrow afternoon! Here is the address, be _prompt_ Thorin! Make sure you use the GPS on your phone this time. Don’t want a mix up like last time, now do we?” Gandalf inquired cheerfully, smiling brightly, and Thorin scowled even as he snatched up the address and making it crinkle.

Gandalf merely chuckled and left quickly, settling his gray hat on his head as he did so (Thorin was pretty sure he hadn’t been wearing it earlier, meaning he had probably left it here, _again_ ) as well as his oak cane and then he was out the door. Thorin resisted the urge to open the door just to slam it at Gandalf’s back, instead just going to window to make sure that the old man wasn’t going to fall down and break a hip or something similar.

Thorin sighed as Gandalf walked jauntily down the street (whistling “In the Hall of the Mountain King” somehow) and pulled away. Well, rehearsal was ruined.

“Might as well,” he muttered as he walked over the computer to get directions for Master Baggins’s living space.

“You have _got_ to be kidding,” Thorin growled when he realized that Bilbo Baggins lived in Hobbiton Flats, on the first floor, and gave into the temptation he had felt all afternoon to slam his forehead against the desk.

He was going to _kill_ Gandalf when he got his hands on him.


	4. Lost. Again.

Thorin frowned a bit as he glared down at the directions, having pulled over to research them and then leaned forward to squint through his front windshield to read the street sign. "Bywater Way? How...." he grumbled as he slowly leaned back again and resisted the urge to slam his head, multiple times, against his steering wheel and, instead, carefully rested it against the top of it.

His cellphone began to ring at that point and poked at the handsfree device in his ear. "Oakenshield," he greeted.

 _"You will take a left onto Bywater Way..."_ Gandalf intoned and Thorin gave into the desire to slam his head against his steering wheel as Gandalf continued to recite directions, Thorin quickly following them.

*~*~*

“I hate you old man,” Thorin greeted as he got out of the car, slamming the door shut as he did so.

“Of course, of course. Luckily, Bilbo is expecting us to be late,” Gandalf responded lightly as he walked into Hobbiton Flats as easily as if he owned the building (he might for all Thorin knew), and Thorin followed like a well-trained dog.

The thought irked him greatly, to put it mildly.

As they walked down the hall, it took a few moments for Thorin to realize that there were limited housing options on the first floor and one door opened to reveal a woman with white blonde hair in a wheelchair, coming out in a way that only allowed Thorin to see her right side. “Oh, Gandalf,” she greeted and Gandalf immediately turned to her.

“Celebrían, you are looking as lovely as ever my dear!” Gandalf greeted and Thorin resisted the urge to growl, even as Celebrían laughed.

“Oh, I doubt that greatly,” she responded and Thorin nearly choked on his air as he neared enough to see that the left side of her face looked like it had been ripped to shreds and healed badly.

He was willing to bet that the eye was fake, though he said nothing as Gandalf chuckled again. “Nonsense. How are the boys?” Gandalf responded.

“Elrond is being Elrond, which isn’t saying much. The twins are behaving as well as expected, and Bilbo is smoking up a storm, so please tell me tall, dark, and brooding there is here to get him out of his funk,” Celebrían answered and Gandalf smiled as he nodded.

“Quite. Thorin Oakenshield, this is Celebrían Rivendell. Celebrían, this is Thorin Oakenshield, a harper turned harpist,” Gandalf introduced and Thorin took a step forward, holding his hand out, Celebrían taking it with a smile as they shook.

“I know that name. Did you do ‘The Songs of the Speakers’?” Celebrían questioned and Thorin gave a small nod.

“That is one of my…harper pieces, yes,” he responded as he respectfully released her hand.

“I should have known. There was a song on there that in the notes said it was a translation of old texts by a linguist?” she questioned and Thorin nodded.

“It was also the translation passed down to me from my mother that had been passed from mother to daughter until her own daughter had no desire to learn the harp,” Thorin added and Celebrían laughed, folding her hands on her blanketed lap.

“It is good to see something so old and treasured preserved,” she stated and Thorin gave a tiny nod, before Celebrían looked up at Gandalf.

“Go take care of my Bilbo, you horrible old man, or I’ll sic Arwen on you. She wants her Uncle Bilbo to start writing songs for school again, and he can’t do that when he’s stressed about ‘things he needs to get paid for’,” Celebrían scolded and Gandalf chuckled lightly.

“Of course, of course. Thorin?” Gandalf stated.

Thorin took a step back and gave a small bow. “It was a pleasure, and honor, to meet you ma’am,” Thorin stated and she smiled, and somehow it made her face seem not as…surprising as it otherwise might have been.

“Pleasure, and honor, to meet you too. Knock on the door. Arwen will adore you,” Celebrían stated and Thorin gave a small nod, his face heating up slightly before he turned and followed after Gandalf.

“She charms everyone, I promise you,” Gandalf stated and Thorin glared, even as they walked down the hallway, muffled piano music finally reaching Thorin’s ears.

He raised an eyebrow when it suddenly discorded, as if someone had slammed their hands on the keys in frustration, before picking back up again. “Ah,” Gandalf hummed and, as they walked closer to the room farthest from the front of the building and Thorin’s nose twitched upon smelling cigarette smoke.

Gandalf lifted his cane, which he hadn’t been using the entire time to the point Thorin hadn’t even realized he was carrying it, and rapped on the green door that simply had ‘0BB’ on the front.

There was that discord again, followed by a cat making a loud noise, and very muffled curses. Gandalf merely hummed and settled firmly on his feet as the door was yanked open by a man wearing a patchwork robe, hair that fell in oily looking curls, holding a red…cat under one arm.

The cat, which was surprisingly huge (Thorin would guess it was about the size of a small dog) immediately began to _growl_ up at them, golden eyes wide and staring at them. “Gandalf,” the man greeted in an exhausted fashion and Gandalf beamed.

“Bilbo, my boy, how are you?” Gandalf greeted, even as the man, Bilbo, put a cigarette in his mouth before he carefully adjusted the cat and quickly removed the cigarette again, holding it behind his door.

“Peachy,” Bilbo grit out.

“And how is Smaug?” Gandalf asked, leaning towards the cat.

The cat, the monstrosity of a cat, immediately hissed and yowled, slamming his paw out towards Gandalf’s face.

Gandalf pulled back, avoiding getting clawed by the cat, even as Bilbo sighed. “Same as always. Well, come in, come in, bring your uninvited self in, along with your guest,” Bilbo greeted in a tired fashion, leaving the door open for them to follow, even as he stabbed the cigarette out in a simple plastic ashtray.

The cat was still in his arm, which had to be exhausting, and the thick tail was lashing behind his back, even as Thorin stepped fully into the flat, taking in the stench of cigarette smoke that clung to everything, almost overwhelming the smell of cat, and the fact that almost all the ‘furniture’ was…musical instruments.

Oh, there was a couch, but it seemed to only be there out of necessity, same as the stools along the counter that separated the rest of the flat from the kitchen, but the grand piano took up most of the space in the living room, there was a cello, a violin (or viola) case on top of the grand (which had the cover down) and a concert harp in the corner. “Shut the door Gandalf! Smaug is an indoor only cat, and even if I have him chipped, all the local shelters know him by reputation and sight and refuse to hold him for longer than an hour after they get in contract with me, and I truly don’t desire to have to do that twice in one month, let alone one week. Has it been a week already Gandalf?” Bilbo stated as Gandalf shut the door behind them.

“A week and a half, actually. I take it you’ve made no progress,” Gandalf stated, even as Bilbo gently dropped the cat onto the ground with a huff.

“If I had made progress, I wouldn’t be getting complaints from management about the cigarette smell,” Bilbo grumbled, even as he worked on dumping out all the ashtrays (not that many of them were filled) and glanced over.

“Apologies for my lack of manners, but this hasn’t been a good…month…month _s_ ,” Bilbo stated as Smaug let out one more growl before tearing off to what could only be the bedroom.

Thorin shrugged slightly and Bilbo ran his fingers through his hair, wincing when he seemed to realize that it was dirty. “All right, I’m renting the harp there. Gandalf said you were good and we’re going to test it. _If_ you seem to strike some sense of inspiration in my blackened old soul, we’ll talk about music for you. If you don’t, well…I won’t be any worse off than I was before,” Bilbo stated as he settled on his piano bench, already pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up, while Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t play for someone more interested in smoking than in their music,” he stated as he crossed his arms, Gandalf settling on the sofa.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow and leaned back, but he settled the cigarette in the ash tray. He didn’t put it out, but he didn’t smoke it either, and Thorin realized that was as close as Bilbo was going to get to following his request when Bilbo waved a hand at the harp.

Thorin sighed and tugged his hair back before he got the harp settled. It had been put in an odd place, but a few moments with it on a stool that he didn’t like, Thorin found himself comfortable enough with the harp.

A few moments tuning it, and making sure he was tuning it properly, and he looked over at Bilbo, who had put the cover down over his keys to lean on it. “Any requests?” Thorin asked and Bilbo shook his head.

Thorin frowned and glared at the strings, idly playing, before he began to shift, playing the song his mother had left the world of music with. He continued to play, finding himself lost in the notes and the tune and…

The song ended with the final flourish and Thorin looked up to find Bilbo had stubbed out the cigarette. “When are you free?” Bilbo asked and Thorin wondered if he was too quick in responding, “This Saturday,” or not.

It didn’t matter, however, because Gandalf had applauded with a boisterous, “Wonderful!”

Thorin snapped over to look at Gandalf, however, surprised to have forgotten that the man was there, even as he stood. “Bilbo, I shall see you for tea at our usual time. Thorin?” Gandalf stated and Thorin carefully made sure to return the harp to its old way before he stood up carefully.

Back in the hallway, Thorin wondered what had just happened.


	5. Playing Muse

When Thorin returned home and told Dis of his…adventures of the day, his sister, who was a horrible, horrific, person, fell off her chair she was laughing so hard. When Vili had asked what was so funny, he joined his wife on the floor in laughter, which had pre-teen Kili and teenage Fili staring at them.

“What’s so funny?” Kili asked cheerfully.

“Your uncle is going to be _playing muse_ ,” Dis choked out and Thorin growled, even as Dis continued to laugh at him.

If he went out and had dinner at the ‘local’ diner owned by Bombur well…

He wasn’t running.

 _Or_ hiding.

He was making a tactical advance to the rear to gather reinforcements and knowledge before returning to the field.

That was _all_.

*~*~*

“When are you going back?” Dis asked when Thorin returned and he sighed as he hung up his coat on the coat tree.

“This Saturday,” he stated.

“That poor man,” Dis responded and Thorin scowled at her back as she retreated upstairs.

*~*~*

Saturday came faster than Thorin expected, and soon he was back in front of 0BB, hand hovering over the door, wondering if he should even bother to knock.

Why had he agreed to do this? There was no reason.

Okay, he was getting hired. Making the transition from harper to harpist wasn't as easy as he thought it would be, and Gandalf  _was_ his agent, of a sort, and he was looking out for his interests, supposedly. But he could do this on his own, and maybe having a guaranteed job at the end of all of this, with a song written for him…

Ah, yes, that was why he agreed to this.

"You should knock," a young, female, voice stated and Thorin looked down to find himself staring at a black haired girl whose head reached his waist, black hair pulled back in a braid that made a crown on her head, who was staring up at him.

"I was going to," Thorin answered.

Her nose scrunched slightly at his answer, as if she didn’t believe him or had smelled something that wasn’t quite right. "Are you sure? 'Cause it seemed like you were gonna stand there for forever and not knock. Uncle Bilbo hasn't played at  _all_ today, which means he’s _really_ stressed and probably waiting for someone,” the girl stated and Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“Are you Arwen?” he asked and the girl’s nose scrunched, again.

“I met your mother, Celebrían, last time I was here. She said how you want Bilbo to start writing music for your school again,” Thorin stated, shifting so he was at her eye level instead of staring down at her.

She beamed instantly at that. “Oh, yes,” she answered happily and tugged on her hair a bit.

“You better knock, Mr. Thorin, or Uncle Bilbo will be quite cross,” she stated and then turned, rushing back to her apartment.

Thorin sighed and slowly stood only to jerk back slightly to find Bilbo had opened the door, the big cat under his arm once again.

Dressed in jeans that were a bit worn and a sweater in zig-zags of blue and green with black trim, he at least looked clean, if not put together, which was an improvement on last time.

He also wasn’t smoking.

“Knocking is usually the best way to get invited,” Bilbo stated and Smaug let out a low growl as he stared up at Thorin, a wild-eyed expression on his face.

“Come on,” Bilbo stated and walked away from the door.

The oppressive scent of cigarette smoke was, mostly, gone, and Thorin shut the door behind him as Bilbo dropped Smaug onto the ground, the cat pausing only long enough to growl-hiss at Thorin before he took off into the ‘depths’ of the apartment. “Right, good, um…something about you then,” Bilbo stated as he settled at his piano, gently tapping his fingers against the top before he sighed, covering his eyes with his hand as he did so.

Thorin sat down on the couch, noticing that the harp had been moved closer to the piano. Before he could question it, Bilbo, without looking up, asked, “Would you like some tea?”

*~*~*

“Oh, Yavanna give me patience!” Bilbo grumbled as he smacked his head against the piano keys, causing the discordant sound, even as Thorin growled out a curse word at Bilbo.

The tea had long cooled, forgotten and ignored as they had tried to even start on the music. While Thorin had been…reluctant to interrupt, Bilbo had to keep being reminded of the fact that the harp did _not_ have the range of the piano and some things just wouldn’t work.

At all.

“It is Aulë that grants patience,” Thorin stated.

“Aulë grants _stubbornness_ , Yavanna patience,” Bilbo snapped.

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes there is a _bloody_ difference,” Bilbo hissed before he let out a long sigh and stood up, scrubbing his hands through his curls.

“Fuck, no, I can’t do anything today. When are you next available?” Bilbo stated and Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“Why do you need to know?”

“I need to know because if you stay in my space, I may have to call up Gandalf apologizing, but I am going to have to write the rest of my works in prison as I have just committed murder out of pure frustration!” Bilbo exclaimed and let out a long sigh, rubbing his hands over his face and Thorin felt himself resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“It is not my fault that you don’t seem to fully understand how to work a harp,” Thorin growled.

“How have you gotten _anywhere_ like this?” Bilbo questioned and Thorin felt himself scowl, eyebrows scrunching up, almost making his brain feel pinched.

“I am not the one being unreasonable,” Thorin intoned.

“Unreasonable? _Unreasonable_?” Bilbo squawked out and Thorin scowled, even as he worked on releasing the tension on the harp strings.

“Yes you are,” Thorin said and Bilbo made a sound that was pure rage, even as Thorin continued to prepare to leave.

“Oh, you impossible… _harper_!” Bilbo exclaimed and Thorin glared a bit at Bilbo.

“I’m good for Wednesday,” he stated.

“Well, I’m not!” Bilbo shouted, even as Thorin opened the door and he looked over his shoulder.

“Have Gandalf call me when you are ready to behave,” Thorin stated and he quickly left to the strangled shout of, “ _Behave_?”

*~*~*

“That insufferable composer,” Thorin growled and Dis snorted into her mug of tea.

“So, you were you and he wouldn’t just lie down and take it then?” Dis asked and Thorin resisted the urge to slam his forehead against the dining room table.

*~*~*

 _“Oh, my dear Thorin, I must say I am quite impressed, quite impressed indeed,”_ Gandalf greeted when Thorin gave his usual greeting on his cellphone, which was his stage name’s last name.

“What?” Thorin demanded.

 _“Bilbo has turned in two pieces. I mean, quite angry pieces, filled with fast-paced music. One he calls the Dragon’s Fire, and the other The Impossible Stone. I believe you have quite inspired him,”_ Gandalf stated.

“I haven’t seen him in two days,” Thorin stated.

 _“Ah, quite, quite, but still, two pieces in two days, when he’s had nothing new for almost a whole year? If I had known you would be so good for him, I would have set you two up **months** ago,”_ Gandalf explained and Thorin scowled.

“He’s an unreasonable, spoilt, child,” Thorin snapped.

 _“Oh? Funny, he said the same about you,”_ Gandalf stated and Thorin felt that pinch between his eyebrows again.

*~*~*

Thorin practically _stormed_ into Hobbiton Flats, only nearly tripping himself when he saw two identical people, wearing jeans of the same _hue_ and matching green  & silver zig-zag sweaters, walking towards the front door, swinging Arwen, who was wearing a blue sweater and a fluffy purple skirt with leggings, her sneakers practically _bleached_ white, between them. “Whoa, Mr. Thorin,” Arwen greeted and Thorin smiled a bit, even as the two, young men (possibly late teens, though Thorin was hedging on early twenties) stilled, eyeing him slightly, before the one on the right smiled a bit at his (possible) twin.

“You must be Thorin Oakenshield,” the one on the left greeted.

“Mother spoke of you,” the one on the right added.

“So did Arwen,” the agreed in one voice, which Thorin was almost positive was rehearsed.

“Elladan Rivendell,” the one on the left introduced.

“Elrohir Rivendell,” the other introduced as well.

“At your service,” the added in one voice again.

“Thorin Oakenshield. And I hope you two never meet my nephews; you’ll give them ideas,” Thorin responded.

Elladan and Elrohir laughed at that before carefully tugging Arwen up so that she was swinging through the air again. “Possibly,” they agreed in one voice and then smiled down at Arwen.

“Let’s go little sister,” Elladan stated and Thorin stepped to the side as Arwen giggled, Thorin marveling at the, very noticeable, age difference between the brothers and their little sister.

“Oh, be careful with Uncle Bilbo. Management went to yell at him about the music,” Elrohir called over his shoulder as the pair continued to walk out with their sister between them.

Thorin continued inside, stilling when he realized that both men had been able to look him in the eye. He blinked a bit and then shook his head before he continued on, slowing when he saw Celebrían in the hallway, turning back towards her door, though she paused when she saw Thorin.

“Mr. Oakenshield, I take it you met my sons?” she inquired brightly.

“Elladan and Elrohir? Yes,” Thorin responded and she laughed.

“The two are terrors, but blessings,” she admitted and Thorin smiled a bit.

“They remind me of my nephews, if older,” Thorin answered and she gave a nod before she looked over at Bilbo’s door.

“He’s been writing music again,” she stated and Thorin raised an eyebrow and Celebrían sighed softly.

“Doesn’t matter, but be nice? I know Bilbo has his…ticks, but he _is_ a good composer, and I have three songs to prove it,” she stated and wheeled her way back inside her apartment, shutting the door behind her as she did so.

Thorin, briefly, hesitated before he made his way to 0BB, surprised to hear piano music, lively and bringing Thorin to mind about doing ballet in the snow, coming through the door. At the door, he stood, listening to the way the music _danced_ , and Thorin had never thought of that before, of being able to see it in such a manner, in his mind.

He wondered if this was a song that already existed or one Bilbo had written, and Thorin stood outside of the apartment for some time before the piano music trailed off to folk songs.

It was only then that Thorin knocked.


	6. Awe and Irritation

Bilbo had been less than pleased at being interrupted, but their…collaboration continued.

Thorin was, in equal measure, irritated and in awe of Bilbo Baggins, composer. He found the shorter man selfish, impossible, and all together troublesome, but he was passionate about his writing and _devoted_ to music itself. He had a strong heart and he didn’t falter, even when he was faced with, apparently, more than a year of not writing anything new.

Thorin had only discovered this small detail about two weeks after Thorin had returned to Bilbo’s flat.

It had started with a shouting match that had ended with Bilbo, figuratively, throwing him out and Thorin had been intent on storming out of the building, but Celebrían had put a stop to that plan, even putting a note on her own door so Bilbo would know. An hour later, Bilbo had come, apologizing, and they had retreated back to Bilbo’s flat.

A quiet admission on his patio as he smoked quietly, Thorin standing upwind of him to stay out of the smoke, and Thorin learned just how _bad_ Bilbo’s block had gotten. That the works he had given Gandalf had been old works of his, ones only his late mother had seen, cleaned up and submitted.

Gandalf had no idea, and if the way Bilbo glared at Thorin was any indication, he still would have no idea just how _bad_ Bilbo’s block had gotten.

It was a secret Thorin promised to take to his grave.

But even this understanding didn’t mean that they stopped having arguments. And oh, Thorin thought the only one who could rile him up so badly was Dis, who laughed hysterically whenever he came home, storming through the door as if he was a hurricane, though with less property damage.

“You should invite him over for dinner,” Dis said eight arguments (including the first one) into the collaboration.

“You are mad,” Thorin responded and Dis just grinned.

*~*~*

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” Thorin asked one argument after that conversation and at the start of their second since Dis’s ridiculous suggestion.

“What?” Bilbo questioned and Smaug, who was still a miserable menace who enjoyed trying to bite through Thorin’s Achilles tendon whenever he sat down at one of the chairs at the counter instead of on the couch or the stool behind the harp, hissed from where he was being held, rather oddly, in Bilbo’s arms.

The composer immediately released the cat on the ground, who promptly growled before taking off while Bilbo sighed, scrubbing his hand through his curls. “Dinner? I was just about calling you names,” Bilbo questioned.

“My sister suggested it,” Thorin answered and Bilbo looked around hesitantly before he reached out, playing a scale on his piano.

“When?” Bilbo asked and Thorin shrugged a little.

“Tomorrow?” he offered and Bilbo nodded.

“Do I have to bring anything?” Bilbo asked.

“Just your smoke-free self,” Thorin responded and Bilbo snorted.

“Very well,” Bilbo promised and Thorin nodded a bit before he settled back at his harp.

“We were at the key shift?” Thorin offered and Bilbo nodded a bit, before he focused on the song.

*~*~*

“A day’s warning, really?” Dis questioned.

“We were about to start another argument. I wasn’t in the mood for another so soon after the first one of the week,” Thorin stated.

“Thorin, today is _Tuesday_ ,” Dis stated.

“Don’t remind me,” Thorin muttered.

*~*~*

Thorin had offered to drive Bilbo to dinner, but Bilbo said he needed to get cleaned up and then he started muttering about something and Thorin had just left him, resolving to call Bilbo an hour before dinner in case he got caught up in writing.

The fact Thorin seemed to be inspiring everything _but_ the song for Thorin was irksome, but tolerable. He sometimes played everything but things actually written for the harp.

(The last time Thorin had played the Jeopardy theme song might have been the reason Thorin had needed to quickly invite Bilbo to dinner.)

As it was, it was, quite literally, five minutes before dinner when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Vili shouted before Thorin could protest and there was the sound of the door opening.

Twin surprised exclamations of, “Bilbo?” and “Vili?” cut through the air just as Thorin turned the corner to find his brother-in-law pulling Bilbo into the house and hugging him close. “By Mahal, look at you! You’ve gotten even more prudish since the last time I saw you!” he exclaimed as he, gently, pushed Bilbo back the shoulders and the shorter man sighed.

“What everyone wishes to hear,” Bilbo stated dryly and Vili laughed before he carefully pulled Bilbo fully in, shutting the door.

“I can’t believe you’re the composer Thorin has been cursing since the first day he met you!” Vili exclaimed.

“I can’t believe you’ve survived to have children,” Bilbo returned and Vili laughed, slightly strained around the edges, even as he pulled Bilbo close, leading him towards the dining room.

“Me too,” Vili agreed and grinned at Thorin when he noticed him.

“How did you get this recluse out of the house? Had to be more than invitation; I’ve been inviting him since I got married, before even, and he’s always hid away in his music!” he asked, even as he released Bilbo to wrap an arm, somehow, around Thorin’s shoulders.

“Yes, well…that is all he did,” Bilbo muttered as he ducked his head and Vili chuckled lowly before he ducked his head and let Thorin go.

“Sorry about your mum,” Vili offered quietly and Bilbo gave a small nod and a shrug, tugging at his cardigan, mumbling an acceptance of the condolences, and then Vili was dragging Bilbo off into the dining room.

“Still have that monster of a kitten?” Vili asked.

“Cat now, but yes,” Bilbo responded and Vili let out that sharp laugh that meant he was both amused and surprised and Thorin was left wondering why he felt like someone had just taken his harp out of his hands.

*~*~*

Thorin had spent most of the evening glowering while Bilbo talked with Vili, Dis, Fili, and Kili easily, while the only time he talked to Thorin was to ask him to pass him things. Dis had also, after five minutes of Thorin’s glowering, began smiling quite smugly throughout the evening and, when it was time for Bilbo to leave, shoved Thorin after him towards the door while she snagged Vili by the collar, forcing him to help her and the boys clean up.

“Thank you, for inviting me,” Bilbo said quietly at the door and Thorin gave a small nod followed by a quick shrug, even as he glanced down the street.

“Where’s your car?” Thorin asked.

“Don’t have one. I have a bike though,” Bilbo answered and Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“Did you bring it?” Thorin asked and Bilbo hesitated before he shook his head.

Thorin sighed, grabbed his keys, and tugged on his coat before he slipped on his shoes. “I’ll drive you,” he muttered and Bilbo flushed and stammered out that it wasn’t necessary, but he was in the passenger’s seat as Thorin drove toward Hobbiton Flats.

“Fili isn’t Vili’s biological son, is he?” Bilbo asked softly as they neared the flats.

Thorin grumbled and nodded, while Bilbo gave a soft hum. “The biological father a deadbeat or dead?” Bilbo asked and Thorin huffed as he carefully came to a stop at the red light.

“Deadbeat. He split on Dis, gave up his rights to his kid, Vili helped her in a grocery store, and Fili’s always called him Dad, so didn’t come up. Then Fili asked, because he looked nothing like Vili and well…” Thorin explained.

“And it came out,” Bilbo stated and Thorin nodded.

“Frerin, my younger brother, he wanted to go hunt down Fili’s father, but Dis got him to leave it be,” Thorin added and Bilbo nodded as the light turned green and Thorin pulled out carefully.

“How did your mother die?” Thorin asked.

“Car accident. I was driving,” Bilbo answered and Thorin nearly slammed on his breaks.

“I don’t talk about,” he added and Thorin gave a small nod, even as he pulled up in front of Hobbiton Flats.

“Thank you, for the invitation. And the ride,” Bilbo stated.

“No trouble,” Thorin grumbled and Bilbo pat his arm and then he was gone, heading inside and Thorin let out a long, low, sigh.

With a shake of his head, he turned on his turn-signal and pulled back out into the street.

He was…concerned about Bilbo.

He was _not_ crushing on him like a little pre-teen on the newest teenage icon.


	7. Is This Love?

“So when will you ask him out on a date?” Dis asked two weeks after the dinner.

Thorin let out a long sigh as he tuned his Celtic harp. “I am _not_ going to be asking Bilbo Baggins, Composer, out on a _date_. I don’t even like the man,” Thorin argued.

“Because you invite everyone you despise over for dinner.”

“I don’t _despise_ him,” Thorin snapped, wincing as the harp string snapped under his finger, lashing out.

He hissed and shook his hand before he focused on replacing all of the strings, because if one snapped it usually meant they were all going to be snapping soon enough. “You argue a lot and invite him to dinner and then we all discover he’s an old friend of Vili’s. Vili apparently hasn’t seen him since high school,” Dis responded.

“Wasn’t there a ten year reunion recently?” Thorin questioned.

“Yes. Bilbo is a recluse, apparently, because no one was surprised that he wasn’t there,” Dis answered and Thorin shrugged before he finished replacing the strings and began to work on playing an old dancing song.

“Are you going to take that with you today?” Dis asked far too innocently.

“Go _away_ Dis,” Thorin snapped and Dis chuckled as she retreated.

*~*~*

Thorin lets himself into Bilbo’s flat since the man gave him a key shortly after the dinner, and shuts the door firmly behind him. He sets his Celtic harp next to the door and looks around when he registers the smell of smoke. He follows it, not entirely surprised to see that it is coming from the patio. He walks over and is surprised to see that Bilbo is relaxing on the patio with a pipe, the smaller man glancing up at him with a quick smile from around the stem. “I finished it,” he explained.

“Finished what?” Thorin asked as he carefully sat down out of the way, but close enough to have a conversation.

“Your song. I finished it. I haven’t had any sleep whatsoever, but I finished it. The part that was bugging me, got over it and it is a masterful solo piece, if I say so myself,” Bilbo answered and Thorin blinked a bit.

“May I play it?” Thorin asked and Bilbo nodded, carefully knocking the ashes out of his pipe and making sure the embers were gone before dumping it in his outside garbage can, locking the lid tight after.

“Of course Thorin,” Bilbo promised and Thorin followed Bilbo inside, even as the man carefully walked over to the piano.

“You’ll have to tell me if it works, of course, but let’s get started yes?” Bilbo asked cheerfully and handed the folder over to Thorin.

It was most definitely a copy. Thorin knew how Bilbo worked, writing over the pages, scratching out and making notations. _Lord of the Silver Fountains_ was written across the front and Thorin began to thumb through the pages. There were…

It was something that Thorin had never thought he would have the chance to play. It called for years of experience, of a wide range, and was…challenging. Not impossible, but oh…

And it was _him_ , which had Thorin’s heart thumping. He could see traces of himself within the notes, those sharp notes of his rage, followed by the soft melody of when he talked about his nephews.

_Lord of the Silver Fountains._

“Lord of the Silver Fountains?” Thorin asked as he looked up at Bilbo, who blushed and focused on his piano.

“Old legend, one my mother told me, about a King who returned to his kingdom within a mountain. Lord of the Silver Fountains was one of his titles,” Bilbo explained.

“You think me a king?” Thorin asked with a small smile and Bilbo gave a twitch shrug that he gave when he was nervous and Thorin smiled a bit before he flushed and looked down at the music.

“Right, let’s…play this,” he muttered and set up the music stand as he prepared the concert harp.

And then he played.

The song shouldn’t have been easy.

It shouldn’t have felt like an extension of his soul so readily, so eager to fall from his fingers and pour itself into the air. It filled the air and seemed to _ring_ and hold itself there, and Thorin felt as if he was going to exhaust himself playing this, and…

While yes, this song was him, he did not know how to feel when it was so easy to lose himself in it. In the rise and fall and in the way his fingers dance across the harp strings.

That this song was not just an extension of him, but the gift of how another viewed him. And viewed him _highly_. Not on a pedestal, no, this had too much _humanity_ in it for that, but it was a warm view. One that was gentle and cutting all at once and as the song ended (and he had not even realized he was nearing the end), Thorin realized it was a declaration of love, wrapped up and hidden away in every note.

“Well?” Bilbo asked softly, hesitantly and Thorin turned to Bilbo, stared at the man with the curly hair and nods.

Bilbo smiles, shakily and hesitantly, but he smiles. “Good, good, I’m glad. Um…Gandalf will call you about rehearsal and space and everything. He’s quite excited by the orchestration I wrote, I almost called it _Arkenstone_ , but decided to name it _The Golden Dragon_ instead, since Smaug was the inspiration. It’ll be before _The Dragon’s Fire_. I seem to be having a theme, but Gandalf couldn’t be happier. He says it’ll make it easier to create a show around the pieces,” Bilbo explained, rambled really, and Thorin nodded a bit.

“Does this mean the collaboration is over?” Thorin asked and Bilbo gave a twitch shrug, focusing on his piano keys and Thorin gave a small nod.

“Of course it does. I shall see you at the concert?” Thorin responded and Bilbo nodded.

Thorin removed the tension from the harp strings, and put it back. He then collected his music, put the music stand back, grabbed his Celtic harp, and left.

It wasn’t until he was playing _his song_ on the harp at home that he realized he still had Bilbo’s key.

He would give it back to the man tomor-…later.

He would return the key…later.


	8. Brooding (Sulking)

“Why is Uncle Thorin glaring at the window?” Kili asked his mother ‘quietly’.

Dis’s youngest son never did _quite_ grasp the concept of _quiet_. “He’s sulking, dear,” Dis answered and Thorin turned his glare to his younger sister, who was ignoring him as she worked on…something.

He wasn’t _entirely_ sure what she was working on. “I am not sulking,” he retorted.

Kili stared up at him and tilted his head to the side, the snarled mess his shoulder length hair always was at the end of the day barely moving with his head. If this kept up, Thorin _would_ sit on his nephew to pull the hair back into a ponytail, even if Dis threatened him with kicking him out of the house for the week if he did it.

“Then why are you glaring at the window?” Kili asked.

“I’m not,” Thorin protested, even as Dis said, “He’s brooding then.”

He glared a bit more at Dis and then turned on his heel, going back to the music room.

*~*~*

“Rehearsals start next Monday,” Gandalf greeted when Thorin opened the door.

“Wonderful,” Thorin retorted and tried to shut the door in Gandalf’s face, only to find that the man had caught it.

“Now, now, Thorin, just because you have had an upset doesn’t mean that you are allowed to be rude about it,” Gandalf stated and Thorin glared, hard, at Gandalf.

“You have informed of when rehearsals start. You have done your job,” Thorin snapped and Gandalf let out a long sigh.

“Very well. If you must be that way,” Gandalf stated and stepped back releasing the door.

“Maybe I should have paired the two of you up months ago, but I am not sure if I entirely like how either of you have left it,” he muttered and then he was walking away while Thorin glared at his retreating back.

*~*~*

The doorbell rang just as Thorin was getting ready to leave for the rehearsal and sighed heavily. He debated just letting whoever it was just…go, but in the end, opened the door, surprised to see Dwalin Fergus on the other side, arms crossed over his chest.

“Dwalin?” Thorin questioned in surprise and Dwalin, who always looked like he was frowning, immediately beamed.

“Thorin! I thought the address looked familiar!” he returned and Thorin stepped forward, hugging Dwalin tight, even as Dwalin laughed and hugged him back.

“When did you get back from overseas?” Thorin questioned as he dragged his cousin in, the wider built, and taller man, easily coming with the tug.

“About a week ago. Don’t tell Balin, but I’ve mostly been spending it getting ready for a show. Mr. Grey asked if I could pick up the harpist on my way to rehearsal tonight, and Balin is going to be there as well, from what I could gather,” Dwalin answered and Thorin barely resisted the urge to frown.

“Gandalf hired you?” he questioned.

“More or less? Dis technically did, when she heard I was coming back. She’s doing the set and lighting design for this show Gandalf is putting together and he asked her if she knew any good stage managers and here we are,” Dwalin responded with a shrug and then glanced at Thorin before he sighed.

“What did you do Thorin?”

Thorin scowled. “I did _nothing_ ,” he snapped and turned away to go get his harp from the back room.

Gandalf had, vaguely, mentioned, someone coming to pick him up, but _now_ he was suspecting a conspiracy of some sort. “What’s their name?” Dwalin asked and Thorin stilled.

“The name of who?” Thorin asked.

“The name of whoever it is you’ve fallen in love with. Did they argue with you? Did you two have a ton of fights? I bet you did. I don’t think it was a fight that has you all…brooding though. Brooding usually means unrequited.”

Thorin tensed and snapped, “There is no name! Just….drop it!”

He then stormed away before Dwalin could call him out on it.

*~*~*

“I’m not apologizing to him,” Dwalin stated the minute they walked into the theater and saw Dis there, on the stage, seeing which backdrops they should use.

“What did the lump do this time?” Dis returned as she made a note on her clipboard before shouting, “Backdrop number 54 next!”

“Gandalf, do we have a play selection for what should be happening in various scenes?” she asked, turning to the grey suited man while Dwalin answered, “He’s brooding and lying about it!”

“I am _not_ brooding,” Thorin grumbled as he carefully pulled his harp across the stage, thanking the ‘drop flying in’ called from one of the stagehands.

“Yes, you are, and you are lying. I wash my hands of it,” Dwalin retorted before he focused on Dis as she said, “He’s being an ass, just ignore him.”

Thorin ignored them both as he went to go put his harp away.

Dwalin’s assistant, and spouse, Ori, happily told him which rehearsal room was his. “The stage isn’t ready. Gandalf and Dis are having…clashes of inspiration,” Ori apologized and then he was gone, leaving Thorin to his own thoughts.

With a shrug, he settled on the stool and began to tune his harp. Once reassured that it was perfectly tuned, he settled down and…

 _Lord of the Silver Fountains_ was already leaping to his fingertips before he had even thought of it.

It hadn’t been the only song he played, he had played others, practicing other compositions, transposing others, doing various other things, but as always, his soul reached straight for the notes.

He felt as if he was breathing it in, having it fill his entire being, reaching out and expanding. His hands were steady even as he felt like it hurt to _breath_ as he played the song Bilbo had wrote for him.

As it came to its end, Thorin nearly fell off his stool at the clapping and looked up, surprised to find Dwalin standing there.

Thorin scowled. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“We need to place you on stage,” Dwalin responded and Thorin nodded, even as he helped get the harp onto the dolly so they could move it.

“I hope you didn’t break his heart,” Dwalin added, but Thorin ignored him.

He had read into that too.

And he still needed to give back that key.


	9. Missing Him

Thorin hadn’t seen Bilbo since their collaboration had ended.

He tried to tell himself he was not upset by this, that it was for the best, but all he ended up doing was frustrating himself further because he hated being lied to and lying to himself was the _worst_.

He took his bad mood out in practicing, noticing how his mood seemed to effect the song, and wondering if maybe he was right. Maybe…

He shook his head fiercely.

Bilbo had let him go.

Bilbo did not fight for him.

Bilbo _did not love him_.

And it was foolish for Thorin to hold onto his own…care for Bilbo.

*~*~*

Thorin nearly tripped over his own feet when he entered the theater, only to see Bilbo there, with Gandalf, going over a song. “It won’t work there. Dis, Gandalf is being foolish, come over here and drag him about by his beard before he stops being so foolish,” Bilbo grumbled and Dis was over in an instant.

“No, the string quartet cannot be on the pit elevator and rise up at the end of that bloody song!” Dis snapped, obviously long used to this argument, and Gandalf began to protest as Bilbo scoffed turned around and…

Bilbo stilled upon seeing him, before he turned back to Gandalf. “I am going to go sit in the front row. You said something about how you wanted my input, so truly, arguing against both Dis and myself is, at this point, just a fantasy brewing in your _medicinal herb smoked_ mind,” Bilbo responded and Gandalf huffed before he chuckled and nodded.

“Quite right, my boy, quite right,” Gandalf admitted and then Bilbo was gone.

“Ah, Thorin! Good, you are here. We are doing our first full technical today. Dis brought the suit, go get changed and Dwalin is in charge of insuring that we can hear the harp. Oh, and have you seen Bilbo’s spare key he usually keeps with Celebrían? She told me that he asked for it from her the other day, oh during your collaboration, which by the way Bilbo was talking about doing another sometime best talk to him about that, and since he hasn’t given it back,” Gandalf rambled and Thorin glared.

“Oh, do stop glaring like an old feral cat and get ready for the technical,” Dis ordered and Thorin obeyed because he wasn’t going to answer that question about the key.

Nor was he going to tell anyone that he had it on him, at that very moment,

Even if he did intend to return it.

As soon as the technical rehearsal was over.

*~*~*

Having to start and stop in the middle of technical to get the microphone levels right was…irritating.

Necessary, but irritating.

And now that his part was done, and they redid the transition, he was done, it was over and…

“Thorin?” Bilbo called and Thorin turned to him, staring at bit down at the smaller man, who was twisting his handkerchief around his fingers before he smiled up at Thorin.

“There is a song, _An Arrow’s Flight_ , that’s towards the end of the show. It is a harp section and the harpist originally playing it well…she broke her arm. I was wondering, only if you wish to of course, but I was wondering if you would like to play it?” Bilbo questioned and Thorin tilted his head, fully intending to say _no_ , no he would _not_ help Bilbo, who had toyed with his feelings and…

“Give me the sheet music,” Thorin demanded and Bilbo beamed.

“Thank you Thorin, though truly, a simple, ‘yes, I would do it,’ would be far more polite,” Bilbo responded.

“I am not the one requesting the favor. I have no need to be _polite_ ,” Thorin retored.

“Oh, quite the contrary. Good manners are essential, you know,” Bilbo responded and turned to leave, even as Thorin responded, “Again, I didn’t come to you with the favor. I can respond how I wish.”

Bilbo seemed content to ignore him, even as Thorin muttered, “Ignoring someone you are having a conversation with is rude.”

“I thought Dwalin was _joking_ ,” Ori stated and Thorin twitched, glared at Dwalin’s spouse, before he stormed to his dressing room and pretended that he didn’t know anyone, not surprised in the slightest to see the music waiting for him.

“It is also rude to automatically assume one will say _yes_ to your favor,” he grouched as he settled to study it, wondering how the other harpist broke her arm.

He winced in sympathy over it and focused on learning the music.

*~*~*

“Ori tells me you’re behaving like a five year old towards Bilbo Baggins,” Dwalin stated as Thorin practiced.

“I am not acting like a five year old, and your spouse is far too nosy,” Thorin responded.

“Ori’s not nosy. They help me run the show and keep the performers from going insane,” Dwalin argued and Thorin snorted, even as he focused on the harp section in _An Arrow’s Flight_.

“Well, I am not,” Thorin grumbled.

“Oh, by Mahal, you fell in love with the composer!”

“Shut up!” Thorin snapped before he focused entirely on the song and _completely blocked out_ Dwalin's choked laughter.

*~*~*

Thorin let out a breath as he readied himself for opening night, something he hadn’t done since his harper days. The lack of jobs as a _harpist_ had kept him out of the performance circuit and even now he feels as if he’s about to be tugged back out of it at the last minute.

“Ten minutes to places!” Ori called.

“Thank you, ten,” Thorin responded and Ori poked their head in.

“You ready?” they asked and Thorin nodded.

Ori seemed to hesitate and then slipped in, Thorin glancing over at them with a raised eyebrow. “Do you know what the crew is calling this show?” they asked.

“I haven’t had time to hide in the shadows and listen to the crew,” Thorin responded.

“The Ode to the Harp. Apparently most of the songs have some selection for the harp in it. It is a ‘Musical Rendition of the Reclaiming of a Kingdom’, by Bilbo Baggins and Gandalf is already in talks about transposing, a bit, into it being a ballet, or getting Bilbo to write the ballet version of these orchestrations and such, but I don’t think he will,” Ori explained and Thorin frowned a bit before he focused on his reflection.

“Ten?” Thorin questioned.

“More like nine now, but yes,” Ori answered and they headed for the door while Thorin focused on breathing.

“Oh, and Bilbo will be backstage, in the stage left wing, so be watchful of him when you are heading to _your_ place,” Ori added and they were gone.


	10. Realization

Thorin didn’t glance once at Bilbo.

He wasn’t even tempted.

(Thorin ignored how his heart clenched since Bilbo didn’t seem to glance at him once when Thorin was at stage left.)

*~*~*

 _Lord of the Silver Fountains_ was coming to its end and Thorin wanted it to last forever. He wanted to feel as if he was there, seeing the great kingdom and watching the way the water gleamed within the fountains and how…

 _The Ode to the Harp_.

Every song is practically held together in the harp, culminating in two harp solo pieces; one that Thorin himself played and the other played by a young woman named Primula.

One that held the height of the power of the mountain kingdom, the other that held its reclamation, and Thorin felt as if he was without oxygen as the final note rang out through the air.

He was thankful he practiced as he stood and gave a small bow over the applause, as they had practiced and exited stage right, his harp being moved by black dressed tech crew (may Mahal bless them evermore), and mentally revising his performance. He only had a guest solo part in _An Arrow’s Flight_ , which was followed up by the second harp solo and he settled out of the way as he breathed.

He exited stage left then.

He’d…he’d see Bilbo _then_.

*~*~*

The performance was over and Thorin hadn’t gone to see Bilbo and…

He was walking away, out through the stage exit and Thorin followed him, ignoring how it was raining and ruining the suit (he had a few exactly like it, he liked the cut, it would be fine for the next two performances). “Bilbo!” he shouted and Bilbo stopped, turning to face him as the rain poured down on them.

“Thorin,” Bilbo responded when Thorin was closer and Thorin stared down at the composer, who was getting soaking wet, and so was he and Thorin stared at him.

“Do you know what the tech crew call the show?” Thorin asked and Bilbo shook his head, scowling when water got in his eyes.

“The Ode to the Harp,” Thorin answered and Bilbo’s head snapped up while Thorin stared down at him.

“Well, yes, the harp is vastly underused and…” Bilbo argued and Thorin moved, yanking Bilbo into a hug.

Bilbo let out a startled sound before he grabbed Thorin back. “Why didn’t you call?” Thorin asked after a few minutes.

Bilbo’s answer was muffled and Thorin let go of Bilbo enough to let the shorter man pull back to answer. “I don’t have your phone number,” Bilbo answered and Thorin blinked at him.

“And you know, this isn’t all on me. _You_ still have the key to my flat! You are not blameless in this!” Bilbo protested.

“You didn’t argue with me when I went to leave!” Thorin snapped back.

“You practically ran out the door! I thought I had destroyed whatever chance I had with you! I mean, you are very attractive and have very nice hands and sometimes I even like your personality and I really wanted to _try_ and…” Bilbo argued, flushing in the rain and Thorin blinked down at him.

“May I kiss you?” Thorin asked and Bilbo’s face, if possible, went redder.

“What?”

“May I kiss you? Because I think I want that to be how all of our arguments end from now on,” Thorin responded.

“You…you…you soppy giant of a man, of course you can bloody well kiss me! I’ve been _trying_ to get you to kiss me since our first argu-…” Bilbo shouted, only for Thorin to cut him off with a kiss, and Bilbo let out a muffled sound before his hands were burying themselves in Thorin’s hair, freeing it from the ponytail and…

A horn being honked had them jumping apart and Thorin turned to glare at…Dwalin and Ori, grinning at him from the car. “Five year old,” Dwalin taunted.

“Shut. Up,” Thorin growled as Bilbo laughed a bit hysterically behind him.

“Get in the car you two. You’ll have to squish though Thorin, because I am not kicking Ori out of the passenger seat to get into the back,” Dwalin ordered, even as Ori twisted to pop open the backdoor for them.

“Come on. Your suit is ruined enough for the evening, don’t you think?” Bilbo questioned.

“No,” Thorin responded bluntly and Bilbo spluttered before smacking Thorin.

“Not before the first date!” Bilbo squeaked and then dashed forward to get into the backseat and just slid across it instead of going around.

Thorin resisted the urge to laugh at that, even as he squished himself into the back passenger seat.


	11. ....As It Ends

Thorin startled a bit when a hand touched his shoulder and he turned, ready to rip into whoever it was, before his ire was soothed upon seeing Bilbo smiling at him. “You know, it is quite rude to ignore someone when they are calling your name,” Bilbo stated, even as Thorin, carefully, turned to face him, gently pulling Bilbo closer.

“It is rude to interrupt a harpist at work,” Thorin tossed back and Bilbo chuckled before he leaned down to brush a kiss against Thorin’s forehead.

“What were you thinking about?” Bilbo asked.

“Oh…I was thinking about dreams,” Thorin answered as Bilbo teased a lock of his hair out of the ponytail.

“Dreams? Oh, maybe that should be my next theme of songs,” Bilbo stated, already going away mentally and Thorin smiled up at his partner, gently wrapping his arms more securely around Bilbo’s waist.

Yes, it seemed all of his dreams, even the ones he had long stopped dreaming, had all come true four years ago upon saying ‘yes’ to _playing muse._

He smiled as Bilbo continued to play with the lock of hair, musing on dreams, the empty seats filling with the dreams of years.


End file.
